


March Fourteenth

by thewalkingdead69



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalkingdead69/pseuds/thewalkingdead69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethyl oneshot whilst they are living together at a safe house. Contains smut and fluff and bethyl love because that's the only fiction I know how to write!</p>
            </blockquote>





	March Fourteenth

Daryl's footsteps were quiet as he trudged through the underbrush of the forest, his crossbow loaded with a new bolt and steady in his arm. The sounds of the forest were still all around, a mixture of birds chirping carelessly from the treetops and squirrels scampering out of sight.

Yes, the sounds were there, but noticeably quieter than they used to be. Before Walkers. Before the world had gone to shit.

A cold drop of dew dripped from a branch and landed on the back of Daryl's neck, sliding down the back of his shirt and causing him to convulse in a violent shiver.

Fuck it's cold he thought to himself, watching as his breath appeared in the wintery air before him before dissipating. He clenched his fists a few times, attempting to restore blood flow to his extremities before he attempted to shoot at anything. The wind was light, but the temperature of the still forest air was arctic at best. Any colder, and there'd be snow. This was not a good sign for a hopeful hunter. He doubted any deer would be stupid enough to forage for food in this frigid atmosphere.

He stopped when he reached the small stream that ran through the forest. He could see some tracks that looked fresh, but no unlucky animals could be spotted. He figured that if animals were anywhere in the vicinity, they would eventually need to congregate here to drink. So he found the warmest-looking patch of soil and sank down against a thick and knotted tree trunk to wait.

I'm dying for a smoke he thought to himself as he rubbed a smudge of dirt from his crossbow, attempting to ignore the goosebumps that were prickling over every inch of his skin in the cold air. Actually, if he was being completely honest with himself, and what other way would he be when he was alone in the middle of the forest during the end of the world, it wasn't a cigarette that he craved the most. It was Beth.

He'd give his last bolt to be where he was not less than an hour ago, wrapped up in their bedsheets, their bodies intertwined and her head resting heavily over his heart as she slept. He always awoke before she did, his body clock was fucked up. But at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to leave the bed until she was awake, as she was often so tangled around him that to leave would surely disrupt her sleep.

So he lay there like a damn lovestruck teenage boy, stroking her hair and waiting for those lashes to flutter as she woke up. She curled herself even tighter into his side as consciousness enveloped her, aching to be closer to the warm furnace of his body.

"Morning sunshine," he grinned down at her as she wrinkled up her nose at the beams of light that shone through the cracks in the boarded up window.

"Hmmm, so tired," she grumbled as she buried her face into his side in an attempt to block out the offending sunlight.

"Nice try, princess. Come on, we got lots of prep to do today before the frost sets in," he went to poke her softly in the shoulder, but she grabbed at his hand before he hit his target and instead pressed it to her breast, her sparkling blue eyes peeking mischievously up at him from between her golden curls.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here with me all day? You're so warm," she breathed, her deep inhalation causing her breast to swell and fill his hand even more, her nipple grazing against the skin of his palm in a way which was much too sexy to handle for so early in the morning.  
She rolled on top of him, pulling herself up his body until their faces were level.

"Course I do, but you know we've gotta-" he attempted to talk some sense into himself, as suddenly the idea of doing nothing but burying himself in this girls tight little body seemed much more exciting than stockpiling resources for the next few months.

"I want you to touch me," she whispered, however it soon turned into a soft moan as he trailed his hands obediently down her back, stopping when he reached her hips. His hands froze over her pelvis, one of them coming up to push her away from him.

"Hmm, what's wrong?" Beth murmured, looking down at the anxious expression on Daryl's face with concern.

Daryl's fingers unconsciously squeezed at her hips once more, feeling much more bone than he was used to. His fingers dipped into each divot of her pelvis, one hand tracing back up her spine and feeling each bump of her vertebrae.

"You're skinny, Beth," he mumbled, all lust now replaced with fear.

She glanced down at her figure, noticing her sticky-out bones and her prominent ribs.

"I've always been thin," she shrugged, trying to distract him from giving her a thorough once-over, his hands feeling more like a doctors than a lovers as he ran them down arms, her thighs, her stomach and her ribs.

"Not like this. Too damn skinny. I need to go on a hunt, princess. Gotta get some fat and protein into you before you disappear before my damn eyes," he saw the reluctance in her eyes as she rolled to her side of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her to shield her frame from his eyes as she searched for her clothes.

"Okay. When will you be back?" she was trying in vain to hide the hurt from her voice at his rejection.

"As soon as I've caught something. Not coming back empty handed, Beth. Can't afford to," he grimaced as he pulled on his leather vest and jeans.

"Just be careful," she whispered softly, still facing away from him as she hurriedly buttoned the plaid shirt that hung off her shoulders.

"Always am." He stepped in front of her as she stood from the bed, heading for the bedroom door and effectively blocking her exit.

"Hey, don't be mad at me for looking after you. It's my job. I gotta keep you healthy. Not like there are hospitals and medicine around anymore to help you if you get sick. All I can do is feed your bony ass and ignore the attitude you give me every time I'm concerned about you," he smiled softly at her stubborn expression, watching it wither under his gaze.

"My ass ain't bony," she retorted, unable to hide the cheeky smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth which soon turned into a hiccup of surprise as he stepped forward and grabbed her jean-clad ass with both hands, giving it an almost painful squeeze.

"You're right, it ain't. Not yet, at least. Give it another week of living on canned peaches and tomato juice and you're gonna look like a twig," he released her ass before striding to the front door, hitching his crossbow over his shoulder and looking over his shoulder before he opened the door.

"Love you," he murmured as she stood there, hair a tangle of golden curls and her cheeks flushed from his recent assault of her bottom.

"Love you, too. Just promise me you'll be back in one piece so you can finish what we started in bed this morning," her eyes glimmered up at him. Not it was his turn to flush deeply.

"Course," he grumbled in response before high-tailing it out the door before she started to undress and make him forget all about this mission. He loved that woman with his whole heart, but damn she enjoyed making life (and other parts of his anatomy) hard.

And now he was here, crouching under a tree on the cold soil, in the cold wind, with cold dew dripping down his back. This was far from his fantasy of being home with Beth, her warm legs and arms wrapped around him and her back arching up against him with each thrust into her tightly wound body. Or perhaps those endlessly long legs thrown over his shoulders, her hands woven through his hair, scratching at his scalp as he licked and sucked her into oblivion, her moans and cries heard by nobody but him as she pleaded for release.

A rustle in the undergrowth snapped him out of his fantasies as a deer stepped into the clearing ahead of him. It was a large male, definitely a stubborn one to be walking through the forest in this climate. Daryl watched from his hiding spot as the buck took a few tentative steps towards the water, eyes darting back and forth through the trees in search of danger before he slowly lowered his head to drink.

The bolt sliced quickly and cleanly into the flesh of it's neck, puncturing its aorta and spraying hot blood over the ground. It let out a betrayed groan as it stumbled backwards on wobbling legs, eyes finding Daryl as he stepped forward into the clearing to collect his kill. He waited with patience for the deer to die. He wished he had brought his handgun with him so that he could at least end this animals suffering, however in his haste he had left it on the bedside table.

Once the last shuddering breath had escaped the buck and its diaphragm remained unmoved as Daryl counted the minutes, he decided it was time to take what he could of the deer's meat. He began butchering the carcass with haste, partially from the cold but mostly because he couldn't wait to be home with Beth, force-feeding her the hunks of protein-rich meat. Once he was done, he had managed to fashion at least 20 small steaks from the animal. Stuffing these into his backpack, he paused to kick leaves over the corpse of the deer before heading back to the house at a brisk pace, no longer feeling the need to keep his footsteps light and quiet.

His nostrils flared at the scent of smoke as it curled visibly from their chimney in the distance. He grinned inwardly at the knowledge that Beth had lit a fire for them, was most likely prepared to cook whatever he had caught on his hunt. She always had faith in him, that one. She knew he would never fail to protect her, to provide for her.

After all, she was the only thing he had left in the wide world. He knew better than to mistreat her in the slightest. She was so good to him, so loving and supportive and compassionate, yet asked for nothing in return. Daryl was no longer angry at the sad state of the world because he knew as well as anyone else that if the world was still good, he wouldn't be with her. She'd still be on that farm with her daddy and her sister, wrapped in cotton wool and as shy as a baby lamb whilst he'd be in a lock up somewhere, stuck with his dead-end brother and dealing meth from motel rooms to make a living.

She was far too good for him. Every day he continued to be in awe of the idea that she didn't mind having his gigantic dirty hands all over her perfect untainted flesh, hell she begged for it. Begged him to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her. She was his angel and his goddamn salvation in this shithole of a world. Just the thought of living without her now induced what could only be described as a panic attack. She'd wormed her way into his cold and empty heart and set up a damn camp in there.

He kicked open the front door of their home, locking it firmly behind himself as he shrugged his backpack from his shoulders, relieved as the weight lifted.

"Beth! Caught you something good," he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet of the house. He could hear the fire crackling in the family room and headed for it instinctively, warming his hands over the flames and moaning low in his throat at the sensation.

"Feel good?" came a familiar voice from behind him. He didn't bother turning away from the flame, he knew the voice and the angel to which it belonged.

"Feels fucking perfect, Beth. I shot a buck. A big bastard, too," he nodded towards his bag which Beth had yanked open and was staring at the cuts of steak with a slightly disgusted albeit hungry look on her face.

"Ugh. Guess I'd be dead if I was still a vegetarian, huh?" she wrinkled her adorable nose at him as he stood and dragged the bag towards the kitchen.

"I'll leave a few out for the next few days, and I'll hang the rest up to dry out?" he asked over his shoulder, pulling a few sizeable steaks from the bag and slapping them on the kitchen counter with a squelch.

"Sounds good. We'll be chewing on deer jerky all winter long," she called back as he disappeared down to the dry air of their basement where they were curing any leftover meats. He chuckled as he hauled the bag down to the collection of meat hooks. All of the hooks were devoid of meat, the last deer he had shot had been a fortnight ago and between the two of them they had devoured the steaks in no time at all. God knows where she put it, but for a girl whose thighs were as thick as his forearms, she had the appetite of a velociraptor.

Soon enough each hook was holding a sizeable steak. He rubbed salt over the meats to make them last a little longer, before hanging the bloodstained bag over the last hook to air out. He set back up the stairs towards the warmth of the fire and his woman, his stomach growling at the idea of a fresh deer steak.

He found her sitting on the kitchen counter with a tin of canned peaches in her lap and her eyes trained on him as she chewed thoughtfully on her mouthful of fruit.

"Awfully cold for March, ain't it?" she mumbled. For the first time since his return he was able to take in her outfit. She'd obviously showered since he had left for the hunt, as her hair was slightly dampened and she smelt strongly of vanilla and peaches and that unnamed yet irresistible scent that Daryl had come to know as simply Beth.

She'd dressed herself in a simple white t-shirt and a plain black skirt that had undoubtedly come from the wardrobe of the girl who used to live here. His eyes stopped when they reached her legs, a lump forming in his throat as he took in the band of white lace that ran across the top of each thigh-high stocking. With the way she was sitting, legs crossed on the kitchen bench, he was able to see each lace strip and he swallowed as he felt his pants grow tighter at the vision before his eyes. It was only when she kicked him lightly in the stomach with her foot that he realized she was talking to him.

"Huh? What?" he gazed up at her in disbelief.

"I said, it's cold for March," she repeated, smirking at the hopeless expression on his face.

"Um, yeah I guess. Wait, how do you know it's March?" he questioned.

"I've been counting the days. I've got a tally in my diary. I started counting on Daddy's birthday which I know is January 3rd, so by my tally it's approximately mid-March. Say, the fourteenth or so," she glanced up at him from under her long lashes, enjoying the clueless and adorably confused expression that clouded his handsome features.

"Sure," he agreed, his hands making their way to the tops of her thighs and sliding steadily upwards towards a new kind of heat that had nothing to do with the fire in the next room.

"Stop!" her hand slapped at his in a serious manner although her voice was still playful.

"Don't you know what day March fourteenth is?" she blinked innocently at him. Daryl's mind was whirring at a million miles per hour. Fuck. Was it her birthday? No, that wasn't until the end of the year. Did they have an anniversary? Surely not. Was it one of the others birthdays? Maggie? Glenn? Judith? Rick? Fuck!

He watched her continue to eat the peaches, her tongue swirling teasingly around the spoon each time it met her lips, before that sweet pink tongue darted out to lick up the last of the juice that clung to her cupids bow.

"No, sorry Beth-" he was cut off as her lips descended to his, her sweet tasting tongue swirling against his, sharing the flavour of the peaches she'd just been devouring. He let out a groan of surprise when he felt her tiny hands at his fly, making short work of the button and zip and plunging into his boxer briefs to grasp his erection with confidence.

"Fuck, Beth," he breathed as she pulled back just enough to speak.

"March fourteenth is steak and blowjob day. We've already got the steak. Which one do you want first?" she was teasing him because she was evil. Before he could even begin to form an answer she had slid off the counter, her half-eaten tin of peaches forgotten beside her. Daryl watched in shocked fascination as she knelt before him, her hand still squeezing his length as she blinked up at him with such innocence that he almost felt guilty for what she was about to do.

He was cursed to watch, unable to look away as she yanked his boxer briefs down just enough for his dick to spring free, her eyes widening as she admired it from this new angle.

"I'm such a lucky girl," she winked at him. He could only produce a strangled yelp and watch in suspense as she traced her warm tongue along the underside of his shaft, stopping to give a very wet and arousing kiss to the tip, her tongue swirling around his head as he slumped forward, his hand bracing his body weight against the corner of the kitchen counter.

Fuck he was in love. The sight of Beth Greene on her knees wearing those white thigh high stockings whilst she sucked him off was surely too good to be true. He was suddenly so thankful that he had been the first man she'd ever had, because he was certain that no other man but him deserved to see this.

She started to moan softly around his cock, the vibrations traveling up his length and sending minuscule convulsions down his spine. He was biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, his finger nails digging into the skin of his palms as he battled for control over the animal desire to fist his hand in her hair and fuck her mouth. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

She'd never looked younger than she did kneeling on the floor in front of him, her tiny hands quickly pumping the part of him that she couldn't fit into her mouth. His eyes were filled with bright starbursts of white light when she suddenly deep throated his length. He could feel every ridge along the roof of her mouth, and the soft convulsions at the back of her throat and with the last vestiges of strength that he had, he pulled back from her, his cock popping free from her mouth and standing to attention between them, glistening in the dim light.

"What's wrong?" she suddenly looked overcome with self consciousness at his actions. He still wasn't quite capable of forming words, so he tucked his hands under her arms and pulled her up until she was standing before him.

"Daryl? Did- didn't you like it? Did I do something wrong?" the hurt and embarrassment that flashed through her eyes seemed enough to bless him with the power to speak English once more.

"Fuck no, Beth. You were doing everything right."

"So why did you stop?" she narrowed her disbelieving eyes at him and he knew he could either give her the answer she wanted to hear, or the answer that was most truthful. Fuck it, truth wins every time.

"Because I wanna fuck you in those lacy little stockings you're wearing."

"Oh, you do?" her signature smirk was once again afixed to her mischievous face. Without missing a beat he stepped forward and grabbed her behind the thighs, lifting her up until her legs were wrapped securely around his waist. She purred as she rubbed herself against him, his mind reeling as he realized that there was no material separating his erection from her searing hot center.

"Where the fuck are your panties?" he growled as he deposited her on the kitchen table unceremoniously, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears causing his patience to wear thin.

"Oops, must have forgot them," she squealed as she fought against him, trying to sit up but being forcefully pushed back down as he pulled her hips to the edge of the table and yanking the offending skirt down her legs.

Without hesitation he lowered his face until he was level with the part of her that was definitely one of his favourites. He heard her gasp as he trailed his tongue along her slit, already slippery with her juices. He repeated the action, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he targeted her clitoris, his tongue circling mercilessly as her hips began to undulate against his mouth, her gasps turning quickly to soft moans.

Daryl had already decided many months before that his favourite sound was the noises Beth made on the cusp of an orgasm. If technology permitted, he would gladly record them and burn them onto a CD for his own personal listening pleasure. He'd never known a woman like Beth, especially not intimately. His brief and unpleasant pre-apocalypse sex life had been filled with drugged up soulless women or prostitutes who would shriek at him like a banshee, calling him things like "daddy" and "baby" because neither knew the others name, and digging trenches into his flesh with their artificial fingernails.

Beth was so completely different from anything he had known before. She was sweet and refined and still slightly vulnerable. Her moans and whimpers were those of a woman who wasn't experienced yet, who was so sensitive that each new sensation was almost overwhelming. Daryl remembered with pride the look of pure confused pleasure the first time he had hooked his finger up inside of her, pressing insistently on that rough patch of nerves. The way she shot up, eyes and mouth wide open in a loud and unexpected whimper at the sensation, as surely nothing had ever felt that intense before, that shocking.

He could feel that she was fast approaching an orgasm by the way she was pleading with him, his name on her lips over and over as though it was a personal prayer.

"Oh god, god, yes, please, Daryl. Daryl. D-Daryl...oh I'm c-," her back arched off the table, hips stuttering in his steady hands as he watched every muscle in her stomach tense and relax in five short waves, her hands grappling with the wood of the table, searching for something to squeeze to release some of this pleasure.

He kissed his way steadily up her body, waiting for her to calm down from her high. Her legs shook against the table, but by the time she had pulled herself to a sitting position she had that familiar hunger in her eyes once more.

"I want you," she breathed as Daryl's lips descended onto hers, their tongues dueling heatedly.

"Where?" he grunted in response, mentally calculating the distance between their current position and the nearest bed. Or couch. Or rug. Or anywhere, really.

"Here," she pulled back from his kiss to swivel around in his embrace, her back pressed to his front and her bottom wiggling teasingly against his erection.

"Like this? From behind?" For some deep-seated and unexplained reason he felt obliged to recieve direct permission from her before going any further. Regardless of the ridiculous amount of trust that Beth had in him, some moral part of his psyche still chided him for wanting her this way. A girl - no, a woman as pure and sweet as Beth surely deserved something more than being fucked from behind as if by a stranger. And there was also Daryl's constant fascination with watching her face during sex, picking up new signals of impending orgasms and seeing her tiny pink tongue sweeping across her lips between moans.

"Yes, baby," it was almost as if she could sense his hesitation as she added "It feels amazing for me, I promise," she placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips before rocking up on her tiptoes and sighing as his length glided over her heat.

That was all the encouragement that Daryl needed to push her forward until her torso rested against the worn wood of the table, his hand lining them up as he slowly pushed forward and groaned as he was enveloped by her intoxicating heat.

Fuck, she was tight. She always was. Probably a combination of him being too big, and her being so small, but they always made it work. This was a new sensation altogether. With her body pressed so tight to the table, there was no give in the muscles of her center and they contracted intoxicatingly around his length as he took a few initial shallow thrusts, attempting to pace himself.

The sounds she was making certainly wasn't making matters easy for himself. He grunted in recognition as he realized that one of her hands was up her white shirt, rolling and pinching at the flesh of her right breast as he worked himself inside of her. With each thrust he bottomed out, grazing her cervix and causing her back to arch either in pleasure or discomfort, he wasn't sure.

"Beth, you gotta tell me if I hurt you," he murmured between gritted teeth.

"Ain't hurtin, keep that up and I'll be coming," she gasped, her free hand reaching back to place his hand over her hip.

"Grab me harder, I won't break," she winked back at him as he brought both hands to her hips and lifted her higher to bring her hips to a more comfortable position in front of his pelvis. Her feet lifted off the ground, instead finding placement on the outside of his calves where the silky smooth fabric of those ridiculous stockings rubbed against the hairs on his legs erotically.

His eyes were attempting to take in everything at once. The arch of her back, those fucking stockings that framed her ass so spectacularly, the vision of his cock pounding into her body relentlessly in the repetitive push-pull motion of sex. And god, her ass. He had to admit that from where he was looking, she may be skinny in her waist and her arms, but her ass had appeared to retain it's delicate curves. It certainly looked curvy enough when it jiggled ever so slightly with each powerful forward thrust.

Daryl suddenly found himself wishing there was a single full length mirror in this damn house. He wanted to watch this, to see her face, the contrast of those good girl stockings worn by the woman getting pounded into from behind, to admire the animalistic yet perhaps impolite way that he was holding her weight in his hands, her feet dangling inches above the ground as he fucked her into the same table where they ate dinner.

He could hear her whimpering something, and tuned in his ears to hear her.

"Harder, Daryl. Harder, please. Don't hold back. Oh please, baby," she squeaked as he quickened his pace, his arm slinging under her hips to bear her weight across his forearm as his free hand travelled down to that pleasure center between her legs, circling her clit with precision until he had to stop thrusting because she was clenching so tightly around him it was like thrusting into a warm wet vice.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!" he grinned in pride that he had caused her to scream such obscenities. Of course, she had sworn in the past, but that had always been in the throes of passion and whispered into his ear at the end of a breathy moan because good girls like Beth Greene don't use language like that. But then again, Daryl thought as he gazed down at the figure before him, Beth Greene wasn't being a good girl right now. Not at all. Beth Greene was shaking and cursing and covered in a combination of both of their sweat and with that thought running through his mind it only took three more thrusts before Daryl came just as hard as she did, falling forward until his torso covered hers against the kitchen table.

"Love you," he murmured, placing a warm kiss to her forehead. She giggled lightheartedly.

"Now I want to hear you say that my ass ain't bony," she responded, glancing back at him. He chuckled as he leaned back on one arm to admire the subject of their discussion. He brought back his hand and landed a gentle spank on her right cheek, smiling as he watched it jiggle the slightest bit.

"Fine, your ass ain't bony. You happy now?" he pulled out of her welcoming body with a sigh of disappointment.

"Course I am. I'm always happy when I'm with you," she straightened up, turning to face him and to plant a warm kiss to his lips, somewhat chaste yet still enough to fan the flames in his groin.

"Come on, I'll get the steaks on to cook?" she went to walk past him but his hand tightened around her arm, pulling her back to him like a yo-yo.

"Not so fast, baby," he sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her warmth towards his face as he placed a soft and gentle kiss on her lower stomach, his nose tickling her bellybutton.

"You reckon we'll be able to estimate the due date from the tally you've been keeping in your diary?" he mumbled into the warmth of her belly.

"It won't be 100% accurate, but it's worth a shot. That way we can be prepared. I'm guesstimating I'm a little over 16 weeks now, but I could be wrong."

"Almost halfway there. We'll figure it out, baby," he replied cooly before standing and scooping her over his shoulder, relishing the excited squeals that escaped her.

"Time for steak, woman. How'd you take yours? Rare?"

"You're a damn dork, Daryl Dixon. Put me down!" she beat her fists against his broad back until he gave in with a sigh and set her carefully down onto the kitchen bench where she wasted no time in scooping up her remaining tinned peaches and spooning them eagerly into her mouth.

"I've never seen anyone eat like you do. Fuck, where does it all go?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she laughed teasingly.

"I'm only gonna get hungrier, Daryl. You should be on your best behaviour before you wake up and I'm eating you," she attempted to threaten him, but her words were lost as their lips met once more, arms wrapping around each other and squeezing tight.

Outside their temporary safe house, the world was silent. A walker shuffled alone in the distance, rotted beyond the threat of danger. A lone spider scuttled through the undergrowth of the forest. For the first time in many years, there was finally peace. No screaming, or gunshots, or bloodshed.

Perhaps in other towns there was madness and hysteria.

But here, all was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review if you enjoyed :)


End file.
